Run Away
by LordByronMudkippington
Summary: Frikken tsunderes, how do they work? Not even they know. Maki tries to come to grips with these strange feelings she has after Muse is disbanded.


**Author's Notes:** So yeah, I'm bad at keeping to my word. I needed time off from writing, but apparently not a lot. I also apparently am super-de-duper bad at finishing stories, since now I'm at three in various states of writing. However, if there's any small consolation, this is a (sort-of) one off. I may have a sort of sequel to it someday, but it would be separate, so this can still be complete as-is. Another problem I was having with my K-On! stories is that I finished watching the anime, so my desires towards writing about it are slowly ebbing. I will have to finish everything at one point (hopefully with only a small delay), but I've felt more like writing about Love Live, since that's the anime I'm currently watching... again. Yeah, I seem to love writing depressing stories about emotionally-confused tsunderes. It's a problem, I know. I may write more one-shot Love Live in the future though. I still love you, K-On! I swear.

* * *

It wasn't something that she understood entirely. In her mind, it was for the best that Muse was disbanding. Having a third of the group leave for university was obviously a big damper on things, and most others had other activities to keep them occupied. She especially would be grateful to concentrate fully on her studies; being on stage all the time was exhausting, and quite frankly still somewhat embarrassing. There was an odd feeling building up in her stomach when it was decided to disband the group, but she couldn't figure out what it meant, and that it was best to ignore the sensation. When Hanayo attempted to make an impassioned plea to keep the group together, she didn't stand up for her. This was for the best.

Schoolwork was more intense than ever. This was the lie she put her stock into, the lie that she used to get out of hanging with her former Idolmates, her friends. There wasn't exactly a good reason for ignoring all of them, and a full-scale cold shoulder didn't work on all occasions, so she just attempted to return to using as little words as possible when in conversation. The ones she did were biting and snarky, to the point where most people once again wanted nothing to do with her. That was okay, though. She needed to put all of her efforts into studying. After all, they wouldn't just let her waltz into a top university because she sang in an idol group once. This all seemed necessary, but when she sat at home and wracked her brains for an appropriate excuse - a real reason - to continue to blow off her friends, nothing would come to mind. All she felt was annoyed, and angry... and lonely.

There wasn't any good reason why she kept herself so distant. Maybe she didn't want to get hurt, but none of her friends had given her that vibe, yet she still kept them beyond arm's length. It was what she had always done, and it would be what she continued to do, logic be damned. During the day it felt okay; it felt normal. At night, however, her confused thoughts began to weigh down on her. The house suddenly seemed big and empty; maybe it had always been that way. She had begun to miss the departed seniors more, even Nico's unceasing teasing, loathe as she was to admit it. When she would lay in bed, when small and lonely tears would touch her cheeks, she would pretend that it was someone else pathetically crying. The cool, calm, collected Nishikino Maki would never have such an outward display of emotion. It was unbecoming.

* * *

She still went to the music room and played the piano. At times, when she would let herself get lost in her playing, it would feel just like it was a year ago, when she would play her for herself and no one else. No one asked her to compose silly pop music, and there weren't any confusing feelings that she continued to find impossible to sift through and understand. Maybe she was just delusional, but she liked delusional: it kept her sane, ironically enough. She wasn't too surprised when Hanayo appeared while she was playing; in the back of her mind, she had expected someone would come and try to convince to be friendly, to hang out with all of them again. She was firm, though: between schoolwork and visiting the family hospital, there simply wasn't time to do all of the things she had slowly grown accustomed to doing over the previous year. It was firm but fair; it was ironclad. She felt confident that this would be the last argument she would have to rebuke. "B-but you still have time to play the piano..." She froze, mouth open with no words to accompany it. She could tell Hanayo was deeply upset, but when her friend stood up to leave, she made no move to apologize, or to keep her from leaving. She just sat there with her mouth open, a very uncomfortable and ill feeling roiling around in her stomach. It was time to give up on any form of music. It was too distracting.

* * *

If anything, she missed music just as much as the former members of Muse. When she'd catch her fingers twitching, as if desperate to be on the piano, she'd flush slightly and force them still. Days would start to come and go in a blur, and she'd have trouble remembering specific instances. The nights were even worse. By now, it was harder and harder to pretend that someone else would occasionally shed tears in her room, as crying was now a more frequent occurrence. She didn't want to admit to herself that she was lonely, that she needed someone by her side. She'd gone so long without being burdened down with friends: why was it now that it hurt so badly to not have them? In a fit of nighttime mania, she grabbed her phone and almost desperately dialed Nico's number, but as soon as it started ringing, she hung up in alarm. No, she wouldn't admit that she wanted to hear her senior's voice, to hear her tease and laugh at the younger girl for feeling like this. That would just be annoying. There was no point in dealing with something like that. When her phone began to buzz a couple minutes later, she ignored it.

The nightmares had started earlier, but they were in full swing by this point. Tainted dreams of everyone surrounding her in an unbroken circle to tell her just what a bitch she was mixed with her desperately running away from the inescapable void of her unanswered feelings, and she'd wake up in the middle of the night, broken out in a cold sweat. Sleep didn't come easy after that, and soon enough she grew to loathe and fear closing her eyes, lest she open them to another bone-chilling nightmare. Staying awake gave her more time to study anyway.

* * *

It wasn't as if she wore makeup. She wasn't so vapid or shallow that she'd put on a mask to enhance her beauty or something. That was went through her mind as she stood in the store, eying the makeup kits in front of her nervously. All she wanted was some concealer; it was to cover up the black bags that formed beneath her eyes, nothing more. Getting only small amounts of sleep were starting to take its toll, and she was completely dependent on coffee to get through her day. She'd drink it in secret though, and she would no longer allow herself outside without putting on concealer. No one needed to know she was struggling. Grabbing several cases of the stuff, she paid for it quickly and left the store as if guarding some great secret. In her mind, she was.

* * *

Going to school was going to be a bad idea: she could feel it. Still, she wasn't sick, and she wasn't eager to miss even one day of school, so off she went. It was raining, as if the weather itself was conspiring to invoke a terrible day for her and her alone. Luckily, with an umbrella in one hand and coffee in the other, she made it to school without incident, and she made sure to throw away the cup before heading into the building.

It was harder than ever to concentrate on today's lessons, though it wasn't because she was about to nod off. No, instead, she could feel the burning prickling sensation of tears fighting for existence on the corners of her eyes. Her, crying? In school? Impossible. That was absolutely not allowed, so she held back, clutching onto her desk until her knuckles turned white, until the lunch bell rang and allowed her to nearly race her way to the rooftop.

She didn't want to be here. Dropping her backpack - with accompanying and necessary umbrella - at the top of the staircase, she walked onto the roof, a deluge of rain immediately soaking her to the skin. She didn't care, though: at least it would mask the oncoming onslaught of emotions that were so desperate to overtake her body, and it would be easier to explain why she was wet overall than just in her eyes. So she grabbed the railing on the roof and let out a hellish scream, one that was silenced and carried away by the whipping winds. She allowed the tears she had tried to hold back to fall freely down her face, the rain making sure they were indistinguishable from the precipitation. She screamed and sobbed and howled until she had thoroughly exhausted herself, until she had fallen to her knees upon the rain-soaked roof, and still she couldn't give herself a good answer why she was letting herself feel this way. How easy it would be to just go and apologize to her friends, to finally alleviate the crippling loneliness she had been feeling for weeks now. Something in her mind just wouldn't let her, forcing her to keep distant from maybe the one thing that could help her. Why did she feel so angry at everyone? It was her own fault for pushing away when all anyone had wanted to do was bring her in. Leaving the roof, she somehow felt more empty than when she had started, and she left her dry backpack at the foot of the stairs as she made her way to the nurse's in order to dry off, the sound of her wet, slick shoes echoing in the empty stairwell.

* * *

It had been hard to come up with an excuse as to why she was sopping wet at lunchtime when she went to the nurse. She had thought a good excuse would come to her, but her mind ended up blank, so she mumbled a sort of non-answer about checking something, which was good enough to avoid any pressing followups. After drying off as best she could, she went to her next class, backpack forgotten. By the time she remembered its existence, it was too late to go grab it, and she didn't have the energy to care about it regardless.

When she went to retrieve her backpack after school was done, someone was already holding it up for inspection. She blanched when she recognized the intense but still-clueless gaze of Honoka, who was able to notice her former idolmate before she could run back down the stairs. "Ah, Maki-chan! Is this yours?" She held up the backpack, her backpack, to which Maki could only nod slowly. Why lie about that? She needed it back, she just didn't want to talk to anyone in order to receive it. Slowly walking up the stairs, she took it from Honoka's hands and murmured a quiet 'thanks' before trying to make her escape. "Why was your backpack up here, Maki-chan?" Urk. She froze without turning around, rummaging around her brain for an excuse, but for the second time that day she came up empty.

"I just... forgot it." That had to have been the lamest excuse she'd given in her lifetime, but she was hoping that Honoka would be too oblivious like usual to notice how little sense it made.

"Yes, but why was it here?" No dice. Why did Honoka have to choose today to be perceptive? Still no answer came to mind, and a bead of sweat dripped down her forehead. With pressure beginning to build up inside of her, she fought back the urge to whip around and yell at her upperclassman. What good would that do? It wasn't her fault she was feeling like this. Without thinking about it, she slung the backpack over her shoulder and began to run, down the stairs and out of sight, ignoring Honoka's surprised cry. She wouldn't stop running until she got home, no matter how exhausted she would be, no matter how much of a lonely coward she felt. She couldn't admit how she was feeling; the mere thought of it freaked her out. It wasn't her, and therefore it wouldn't be her. All she could do now was run: run from her friends, run from her problems, run from her feelings. She would run until they were all in the distance, where she could no longer see or hear them. Her entire life she had been just fine with the path she was on, with no one else to distract her from that end goal. She would be fine from now on, on her own, no matter what the tears splashing on her flushed cheeks would indicate. She was going to be fine, no matter what.


End file.
